A Sorceress, an Elf, and a Centaur
by Jimaine
Summary: While in Seattle Kurts girlfriend Amanda discovers a mutant girl who is in need of the X-Mens unique help. Why is she so shy of the X-Men? If you're elfaholic read this lotsa crawler!*complete-did Kurt say yes?
1. Discovery

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, the only thing I own in this story is Centaura, and if you still decide to sue, all you'll get is a pregnant gerbil and a few books.

  
  


Note: I'm not going to put up the other chapter until I get AT LEAST five reviews for this. I have no idea if this sucks or not - and predictions about what's going to happen next would be appreciated.

  
  
  
  
  
  


~I~

Amanda Sefton growled as she flung her overly-small bag onto the hard hotel mattress. Her annoyance increased as she sat down, and finally found out /why/ the airline was willing to pay for her room in this place. It was cheap, and none to pleasant. Tiny, uncompromising, with barely tow chairs and a practically miniature table able to fit in the small space provided between the bed and the outside wall. There wasn't even a balcony to relieve the nearly claustrophobic feeling! And everything, from furniture, walls, bedspread, and carpet, was all in that hideous shade of green you never seem to find anywhere else.

However, there was something important that had been nagging at the back of her mind, as if she had seen something vitally important and overlooked it. _*Well, the airline paid for a rental car, and I want another look at that place. Who knows? I may be spending too much time around the X-Men,*_ Amanda thought to herself. Grabbing her cell phone (hey, even a sorceress needs a modern means of communication), she locked the door on her way out.

Down in the garage, Amanda looked despairingly over the car TWA provided. *_I'm stuck in Seattle for a week with one of those miniature foreign things that /looks/ like it should fit four people, but really only fits three!*_ Still, Amanda started the bright green thing, wishing she wasn't forced to hunch over, even when the seat was at it's lowest.

*_The things a girl will do for her boyfriend,*_ she thought ironically. *_If Kurt and I weren't dating (WHEN is he going to ask me to marry him?!? I may have to do it myself . . .), I would have assumed I'd been hallucinating,. Your viewpoints on things change when your boyfriend is blue and fuzzy, his best friend has bones coated in metal, and is a member of a wanted superhero group. Oh well._*

Amanda Sefton had known Kurt longer than anyone, save her mother Margali. Margali of the Winding Road had found him in the river after Mystique, his real mother, threw him over a waterfall to save herself. They, and her brother Stefan, had grown up together, in the accepting safety of the gypsies and the traveling performers, whom Kurt ended up becoming part of. Amanda Sefton wasn't her real name, her given name was Jimaine Szardos - and when Kurt left, it had been to leave a tattered life and family. During a fight to halt Stefan's growing madness, Kurt accidently slew he whom he called brother - and the townspeople /assumed/, because of his mutant looks, that it had been the heartbroken Nightcrawler who'd murdered their children, not his brother, whom Kurt had slain only moments before. The demonic-looking mutant had been on his way to find Margali and Jimaine, to tell them, when he was attacked. His life was saved by a telepath, who recruited him for his mutant team - 

The X-Men.

Amanda shook her head as she drove though the city traffic, concentrating on navigating the steep streets. *_I knew Kurt could never have killed Stefan in cold blood, so I became 'Amanda', and I proved what I already knew - the Kurt was wholly innocent. So when Mother struck, to bring Kurt to her version of Dante's hell, I dragged the X-Men along for the ride. They would never allow Kurt to go into any hell, not even if he himself thought he deserved it. I admit, Dr. Strange was a surprise, but one that worked to my advantage. When he, Kurt and I revealed to Mother what had /truly/ happened, she forgave him. The X-Men learned Kurt's no-long-dark little secret, and I got to tell Kurt that I had been playing Amanda the whole time . . . What a night that was! And on his birthday, too, poor elf,*_ **_~(See 1980 annual, annual #4, for the full story of 'Nightcrawler's Inferno')_******, Jimaine laughed. She was entirely content to continue being 'Amanda'. She made a good living as a TWA stewardess, and she saw Kurt more often as well . . .

Amanda turned on the radio, which fizzed and popped until she found one station that worked. And it was, of course, in Spanish. She muttered in German at first the radio, then the dinky little car, then the hotel, and lastly her airline for stranding her in Seattle for a week.

  
  


Centaur stretched her legs, then settled into her position. She had come to love midfield, even though she had hated playing it at first. She'd hated soccer, at first, but then she found out she was good at it, and things got a little easier. She lived in her own private little hell around the clock, the only exceptions being when she was standing here, on the grassy front yard of Miss Madeline's Home for Girls, preparing to run the pants off the opposing team. She was feared, hated, teased and mistreated on all other fronts, but no one questioned her rule on the soccer field. She could play other games . . . none of which were allowed at the Home, of course. She watched the forward on her side of the field, keeping one wary eye on the center forward, who was preparing to kickoff. And then the ball moved, and both teams raced into action.

  
  


Amanda stared, dumbstruck, at the makeshift soccer game taking place on the front lawn of Miss Madeline's Home for Girls on the outskirts of Seattle. The game was perfectly harmless - a good way for girls who were probably pent up inside most of the time to expend their anger and energy - however . . .

*_I have to call the X-Men.*_

  
  


Ororo Munroe glared at the sickly plant before her. It had recently been repotted, which gave it ample reason to be droopy, but she didn't have to like it. All the same, it would get better, and just as she was about to turn her attention to her other plants, the phone downstairs rang. She paused, waiting for someone else to take the call.

Then she sighed, and walked out of her attic to answer the infernal machine. "Hello, Professor Xavier's School for Higher Learning, how -"

The weather-witch was cut off by a voice she took a moment to recognize. "Ororo? This is Amanda. Is Professor Xavier there? I need to talk to him," Amanda sounded calm, but there was an uncertain edge to her voice. Ororo knew that, had this been a personal call, Amanda wouldn't have used the 'school' line, much less asked for Xavier. 

"Why? Usually you -" again, Storm was cut off by the worried German's brief explanations. 

"I have to talk to the Professor. I think - I take it back, I _/know/_ - I've found a mutant in the area. And she's in need of the X-Men's unique assistance," Amanda answered. "She doesn't seem to be very powerful, but her mutation is, hmm, /_obvious_/, to say the least."

Ororo thought for a moment. Kurt's longtime friend knew all the X-Men, well enough that if she ever switched sides, it would be very easy for all the X-Men to die. *_Kurt, though he loves her, would never let that stand in his way, not if he even suspected she might do something of the sort._* "I'll put Charles on," Ororo concentrated, and almost instantly felt another presence in her mind. *_Professor? It's Amanda, on the 'school' line. She says she's found a mutant who may require our attention.*_

_*Thank you, Storm. I've got the phone now,*_ and with that, the telepath vanished from Ororo's senses. She hung up.

  
  


Xavier thanked whatever coincidence or divine intervention that lead to Amanda's discovery of the mutant girl. If Amanda's description of her was correct, she could never make it in a world that was still so prejudiced against mutants. She would become a morlock at the best, murdered at the worst. She simply /_couldn't hide her mutation/_. All of his X-Men could, although Nightcrawler adamantly refused the image-inducer that would make his façade so much easier.

However, there was simply no one else to send, No one else fit the description perfectly, no one else who had even a /chance/ of extracting her from the shell she _/must_/ have. She couldn't have survived so long without one. 

"Alright," he said, "Amanda, I'm sending Nightcrawler to you. He'll make the arrangements. He'll need your help; we want her to come here both willingly and legally. She can't just vanish, no matter how convenient that would be."

"Fine. When will he be here?"

"In about six hours, _mein liebling_," Kurt answered as he picked up the phone. 

Xavier hung up.

  
  


Kurt wanted to stretch, but didn't dare. Not until Amanda got him out of the airport. He put his three-fingered hand deep in the trench coat pocket, sighing. He hoped he wasn't frightening anyone, because he couldn't hide his eyes.

"Hey, Elf!" came a happy voice to his right. Kurt smiled, and started walking over to the familiar blond figure. "I can't believe you flew Delta. You're going to put me outta the job, fuzzy," she ginned at him, and they kissed. Kurt grinned back, a hint of white fang glinting in his mouth.

"On to the car! I need to stretch. I'm so crunched by those seats I think I shrank an inch," Kurt put his arm around Amanda, who was just barely holding in laughter. "This is what I brought on the plane, the Prof. sent the rest on to the hotel. He also rented another room . . ."

"For the girl," Amanda finsihed.

"So I was hoping, yes," at this, Kurt grinned again. They reached the parking lot, and saw the tiny, bright green car. "Tell me that's not yours."

"Well, no, it's not -" 

"Dänke."

"It's the rental agencies. I've just got it for the week."

"Unglaublich."

"My opinion exactly."

  
  


Four days later . . . . 

Amanda vanished into the door marked 'office' for the umpteenth time, and Kurt had had his fill of sitting on the uncomfortable bench outside, just because he had to keep what he looked like a secret. He hadn'e even gotten a look at the girl, whom everyone insisted upon calling 'Centaura'. Her birth certificate, made only two years ago, just before coming here, even said 'Centaura Moscella' (moss-KAY-ya; Spanish pronunciation of double L's). Amdana had described her, but Kurt found it hard even to picture her.

The Elf stood and began wandering around the public halls of the Home. He was about to pass another one of the identical doors, when he heard shouting come from behind it.

"Back off, you inbred bitches, or I'll do to you what I did to Christie!"

Kurt paused. _*That,_* he decided, _*is not a good sign. I think I's better check things out . . .*_

"Oh, the half-breed's gonna tell us off! As if we got better ta do then mark her hide till it's black-and-blue. You ain't no better than the rest of us, horse-child! In fact, you're worse! You ain't worth my foot, you freak!"

"Good," the first voice spat. "I wouldn't want to be worth so little!"

The second voice screeched, and Kurt poked his head inside. None of the girsl noticed him. "You put on a face like you've changed for the adults," she sneered. "But you're the same filthy, vile gang-banger you were when they brought you here! You're a traitorous back stabber, murderer, and have no respect for anyone but yourself!"

"And who," the first voice growled, seemingly untouched by the other girl's cruel words. "should I be respecting?"

"Me. And the other's who've been here longer 'n you. We tried to teach you when you got here, more then a year ago, but you wouldn't learn. You we're gonna have ta teach you the hard way," the second voice hardened in finality, and the semi-circle of girls surrounding the first began to close in. Kurt watched as she shifted her weight, and turned the half-made fighting stance she been in before into a full one. It was a position that Kurt, in the service of the X-Men, had been in many times. 

"I've been learning things the hard way a long time, Katerina. But I never learned nothin' that wasn't worth knowin'," the first girl, the girl in the center, was outnumbered and seemingly out muscled. She was a good deal shorter than the others, looking to be about 4 feet, eleven inches tall. Her long brown hair was tied up in a rather severe french braid, and her emerald eyes were as hard as the gemstone they resembled.

It was then that Kurt realized that the girl in the middle, one to the groups six, was the mutant they'd been sent after.

Seeing Centaura in the flesh was much different than hearing her described. If she'd been born the way she looked now, Kurt had no doubts that her given name really /_was_/ Centaura. For that's exactly what her build suggested; a centaur. She was no half-hose, all part of her were human . . . she just had a few too many parts. Set up like a centaur, she had four legs, four /human/ legs. There was about six inches of torso-like body between each pair of legs, and it seemed her backbone had been made to keep her torso upright, bent that way. The only part of her that really wasn't human was her tail. It was much like his own, made only of bone and muscle, just as strong and prehensile. At four feet long, it whipped behind her, making a /**crack**/ing sound. She was stocky, but very lithe. Her legs were only a little longer than her torso, and unless you knew what to look for, she didn't seem imposing. But well-developed muscles rippled under her skin, although they had been mostly out-of-use for a year and a half. Even after so long a time, she was stocky because of muscles - there wasn't an ounce of superfluous fat in her entire body.

Centaura, the only one facing him, noticed him first. Kurt cleared his throat. The other six girls whipped around, and seeing an adult, ran. Nightcrawler noticed what Centaur was wearing, and almost laughed because it looked so ridiculous and out-of-place.

She wore the same gray uniform as everyone else, though the skirt was custom-made. It looked rather . . .foolish, on her, as did the sleeves just this side of puffed, and the white stockings. The black booties didn't help matters.

Centaura looked at her unexpected rescuer for a moment. She knew that she was being 'transferred' to some school in New York, acros the country, and far from anything she'd ever known. "Sir?"

"Centaura? Am I right?"

_*There's something strange about his eyes . . ._* "Yes. Sir, it's not my place, but your eyes -"

Kurt laughed, and pulled back the hood that he wore to conceal his features. Blue fur, bright, pupil-less yellow eyes, blue/black hair, and large, pointed ears grinned down at Centaura from ten inches above her. "Are yellow, my face is blue, and I have elf-ears. I realize all this."

Centaura blinked. And blinked again. Then she shook her head, and asked, "Do you have fur all over, or just on your face?"

At this, Kurt started laughing all over again. "What's so damned - sorry, danged - funny? It was an honest question. And you left somethings out. You have three fingers. And a tail."

"Sorry, fraülien, but you have a unique reaction to me. And I'm blue all over."

Centaura began circling him, and continued her commentary as f she wasn't aware she was channeling a vulture. She didn't move elegantly, but every step contained controlled power. Nightcrawler was inwardly surprised at this, since her papers said she was only a little older than fourteen. "How should I react? By screaming? Oh, yeah, good idea. You'd probably be shot on sight, and fine thanks that would be for saving me from them. I didn't want to get in trouble for beating the pulp out of them. Again. Besides you actually look," she though about it for a second, and stopped her inane circling in front of him. "Pretty cool. Fur would be cool. Me, I've just got four legs and a tail. What can I say?"

Just then a voice yelled "Kurt!" from the hallway, and the Elf rolled his eyes (not that anyone could tell . . .)

"Coming, 'Manda," he called, pulling the hood back into place.

"Kurt? Is that your name?" Centaura asked. The mutant girl was desperate for more at least seemingly intelligent conversation, and even their short talk had been outlandish compared to the average, droning, ever-present and never-changing conversation around the Home.

"Kurt Wagner, Nightcrawler, at your service, young Centaura," Kurt bowed, flashed a roguish grin, and was gone in a _BAMF_.


	2. Forever Hidden

**Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, Marvel does, the only thing in this story I own is the story itself and Centaura.**

**Note: I'm going to be annoying and wait for five MORE reviews until I post the next chapter . . . SO REVIEW!!**

~II~

Centaura curled up on her bed, with the same list of daily annoyances that the Home hadn't even considered before she had actually _arrived_ there. Like chairs. They finally let she sit on a long bench, only she sat on it the 'wrong' way, so it could hold her torso section between her pairs of legs. And beds just aren't designed to hold someone with extra legs, although that was far easier than the chair debate. 

As the mutant tossed and turned, her mind returned to the abnormal event that had taken place earlier that day. _He really seemed to - to care about my reaction to him, seemed willing to _protect_ me from the other girls . . . no matter that I didn't truly need his protection. Oh, he was probably just intervening because I'm another mutant, but he was an angel compared to what those - those - those . . . I can't. I can't even think of them. Not without . . ._ Centaura took a few deep breaths, but they weren't helping. Then she gave up. She curled up even tighter, and gave her tears free reign. For more than a year she had kept her feelings hidden. At the beginning, when she had been 'free' of gang life for only four or five months, she was starting to see past the nonchalance that the social workers showed her, and she didn't like what she saw. 

Hatred.

Hatred and prejudice against mutants, her kind, a being of which she was intimately a part of - and whose name she had never even known. When, only days after coming to the Home, she was attacked by a group of six girls, she first experienced that very enmity for herself. She did beat them, but they made her remember, remember that she was one where they were many. In her still street-oriented mind, it was like one small gang in the middle of a city, surrounded by large, hostile gangs with no 'agreements' to ease up on casualties.

She had pulled off her masquerade brilliantly until about a month ago. Then, things became too much. For the first five months of her visit there had been another gang-child like herself, who helped Centaura understand the Home and the people. Without her help, the young mutant would never have made it as long as she had.

Now the girl's words began to sting as much as their blows; at least physical pain would slowly vanish. But Centaura had held on by the tip of her tail for too long, and her grip was beginning to slip. For the longest time, her survival mentality had kept her alive, along with the easy comparisons between the Home's politics and gang politics. 

The only vast difference was that now, her gang wasn't trying to help her - 

But trying to destroy her, whether they knew it or not.

_I need a new place. I need a fresh start, some place where they only know what's on the files. Where they don't think I could kill a person without reason. Because hard as I'm trying to fit in this new mold of theirs, it's going to crack if they keep turning up the heat,_* Centaura thought wryly. _I, who know nothing about molding, or even what to call it, came up with _that_?! I'm surprising myself. Still, help had better come soon - _

_Or there'll be no one left to help._

  
  


"So you met her?"

"_Ja_, Amanda. In a rather perilous position, I might add," Kurt's demonic eyes hardened as he remembered how he'd found the orphaned mutant - about to be beaten into a pulp by six of the other girls at the Home.

Amanda raised her eyebrows. "Perilous? Kurt, dear, I think you need a vacation from the X-Men when you start using words like that in an everyday sentence."

"But it _wasn't_ everyday, 'Manda! She was in over her head - I think. Oh, boy, the Prof. is going to love cross-examining this one," Kurt commented. "Remind me about her history again."

Amanda sighed as she forced the dinky little green car up one of Seattle's many steep hills. "She's a gang-born, and her gang, the Dragons, was running cocaine when the police raided their base. All but she and a younger boy, whom she claimed was one of the gang-girl's sons, were killed. Both were put into protective custody, and separated. She's been at the Home for about a year and a half."

"So we don't know anything about her? Did she get examined by a psychiatrist?" Nightcrawler wondered.

"I think she did, when they first brought her in . . ." Amanda flipped through the papers in the file. "Ah-hah! He said she wasn't as hard-core as most gangsters, and were she not a mutant, she would fade into Home life very easily. The psychiatrist suggested that they begin a facility for mutants like her, instead of putting them in the regular Home's, but he was overruled because of, lessee, budget and the fact that it would be treating mutants separately."

"Smart person."

"Pro-mutant, fully human. They went as far as to DNA-examine the poor man so they could assure themselves that he wouldn't have pity on a fellow mutant and let a potential killer out," Amanda snorted in disgust. "What bull*hit."

"Ah, but that's the way the world works, _mein liebling_. Might makes right," Kurt pointed out bitterly. As the tiny car pulled into the garage, Amanda turned to her lover. 

"Kurt . . ." 

Kurt brushed a lock of Amanda's springy blond hair out of her face, and kissed her. "I know very well how lucky I am, Miss Jimaine Szardos, and my suggested course of action is -"

_BAMF._

  
  


"Miss Szardos, I'll be frank. Centaura seems to fit in well with the girls here, but she is a fighter. She's reckless, and usually fights a group of girls by herself. Why, if she didn't vent her energy playing soccer, I don't know what kinds of hullabaloo she's be causing!" she shook her head. "I don't wish to frighten you, but she may cause trouble. Some of our staff . . . wish to keep her within our boundaries," the woman sitting before Amanda was wearing a navy blue business suit, had her hair up in an excessively traditional manner, and was one of the stuffiest people the gypsy-born had ever met.

"Mrs. Hoffman, I assure you that Centaura will be well within the boundaries set by this Home, as well as others Xavier's School for Higher Learning will set. She will not come to harm, and she will be disciplined should she disobey," Amanda told the woman. "The School is very small, and the students very close-knit and usually accepting. Should there be any problems, you have the School's agreement to contact your agency. I assume that everything is in order for her departure?"

The woman sighed, seemingly resigned. Xavier's School had fought hard over the young mutant, although none on the staff could see why, considering her past. However, Miss Szardos had remained adamant that this place was a place of second - or in Centaura's case, third - chances. And the file on the school was remarkable. Although it seemed to get destroyed a lot, there were no reports of bombings, shootings, drug usage, or any of the other crimes that most schools had to fight nowadays. It was one of the top private schools in the country, with the only downside that, unlike most schools, they came to the students and asked if they should like to go there, not the other way around.

"Miss Moscella will be ready to leave by 8:00 tomorrow morning, Miss Szardos. When will you and Mr. Wagner be picking her up?"

"Around 8:30, then, if that's admissible," Amanda suggested.

"I will inform Miss Moscella, and escort you and Mr. Wagner to the door," Mrs. Hoffman gestured, and Amanda left the office for the last time. _Good thing too - I'm due to leave back to New York day after tomorrow. Had this taken any longer . . ._ Amanda sighed. 

Nightcrawler stood as the two woman approached. "May ve accompany you to tell Centaura of her new arrangements?" Kurt asked, his German accent sticking out more than usual.

Mrs. Hoffman ground her teeth, but answered "Yes, of course, Mr. Wagner." The couple followed the woman through the hallways. When they got to a dorm room, they found the same six girls who's 'playtime' Nightcrawler had interrupted when he first met Centaura, and Centaura herself. Bruises were slowly forming on all of them, and Centaura was sporting a brand-new black eye. "Centaura Moscella! What have you been doing?"

The mutant shrugged. "Defending myself."

"From who, these girls? They probably couldn't put one bruise on you, let alone attack you!"

"Mrs. Hoffman, Centaura started it! She came in swinging, and Emily and I accidently knocked her head into one of the headboards! Honest! We didn't _mean_ to hurt her - but these things sure do!" Kurt recognized the voice of the girl who was so adamantly protesting. It was the girl who'd lead the six before. 

"'Manda, these are the same girls as before," he whispered.

"Fore sure?" 'Crawler nodded. Amanda and Kurt waited for Centaura to come to her own defense. 

However, much to their surprise, and contrary to both what Kurt had witnessed and Amanda had read, Centaura just shrugged. Mrs. Hoffman turned to the pair, sputtering hapless excuses while Centaura's eye got worse instead of better.

Finally, Kurt couldn't stand there, listening to the woman who obviously didn't care about the kids, just the politics, and sent Amanda a Look that meant he was going to do something stupid. "Mrs. Hoffman, where is the Home's refrigerator?" he asked, his fangs glinting a little as he ground his teeth in annoyance.

Mrs. Hoffman stammered out the answer to his unexpected question, and continued apologizing to Amanda. Amanda didn't try to stop her; she knew what her lover was doing. A minute later, Kurt walked into the room with a bag of ice, and pulled back his hood so he could get a better look at her eye. Mrs. Hoffman, with her back to him, didn't even notice. The girls did, though, and drew away in speechless terror.

"One of them did quite a job on you, Centaura," Kurt murmured. The mutant girl smiled wryly at him.

"Are you sure I didn't hit my head on the headboard?"

Kurt grinned back at his willing patient. "Yes. Here, put this on. And when the swelling's gone down, start packing. You're coming with us tomorrow."

Centaura gasped, both at the ice and at his statement. "Really? I'm really leaving?!"

Kurt laughed. "Pack," he ordered mockingly, tapping her nose with one blue-furred finger. Getting up, Nightcrawler pulled the hood back over his head, and joined Amanda, who was (finally) working to get the woman calmed down. "Mrs. Hoffman, we'll be back promptly 8:30 tomorrow morning. Keep a close eye on Centaura until then - after all, we don't want her entirely black and blue, do we?"

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Centaura looked right at Kurt. "Why not?" she questioned almost mockingly.

Amanda and Kurt were having trouble restraining their laughter. 

  
  


_My suit case is downstairs . . . My bed is almost bare, even of my secret things . . . And for once, I know that hope will outshine the darkness. Can this really be happening to me? Am I truly being liberated from the tenth level of hell?_

Centaura's thoughts swirled, cutting through the predawn gray in the dorm room. She had not yet been able to sleep, to busy with thinking and with dreaming. Then a draft blew in from the window, open a fraction to let in the cool, end-of-spring air. All of a sudden, Centaura's street-wise instincts picked up on a still-familiar warning of danger.

She was careful to keep her breathing slow and steady, and fought to keep her eyes closed. If she was in trouble, whoever was after her would have a harder time of things if they didn't expect her to fight back right away. 

"Is she finally asleep?" came the whisper of an all-too-familiar voice. Emily, Katerina's chief flunky. At least, that's how Centaura thought of her. Centaura forced her all-too-willing muscles into place, and prayed that they would believe her act. The Home's workers couldn't be everywhere, especially at night. 

So Centaura fought, but she knew she had lost this fight the moment the first blow struck her cheek.

  
  


Nightcrawler loaded the last of Centaura's two bags into the dinky car's trunk, and walked back inside, hoping that Centaura had at last appeared. _It's funny,_ he thought, _that Mrs. Hoffman was so adamant about her being on time, and now she's ten minutes late. I hope there's nothing wrong._

However, no X-Man has ever been known for their luck in that particular area, and Centaura was no different. When Centaura emerged into the foggy day, she was wearing her first 'civilian' clothes in the years and a half she'd been in the Home, a loose shirt and baggy jeans that fit much better than the skirt she'd worn in the Home. However, there was a hand-shaped red mark on her face, and even her tail, swinging gingerly behind her, was bruised. In shock, Kurt bit his lip, cursing softly as he tasted his own blood, and Amanda place her hand gently on Centaura's shoulder, noting the way the girl flinched, before storming into the Home.

The new cut on his lip still bleeding, Kurt crouched before Centaura. _It's difficult to talk to someone so much shorter than you - shorter than Wolvie!_ He took her hands in one of his, and asked, "Little Centaur, what _happened?_"

The girl shrugged. "They caught me very early this morning. So early it wasn't light yet, and managed a good pounding before Mrs. Hoffman came and got them off me. It's really nothing."

Kurt shook his head as Amanda stalked out of the Home. "You're as black and blue as I am, Centaura - that's something. Why, though? Why torture you so?"

Centaura shrugged again, though this time she winced. "I'm a mutant and I got out before they did. That's reason enough for them."

"Come on, Centaur-filly. We'd better get to home," Amanda gestured to the back seat of the car.

Centaura eyed it dubiously. The car, in and of itself, was small. The back seat looked like to would barely fit one person, let alone allow room for another half-a-person. "Will I fit?"

Amanda's only reply was "I hope so."

With much squeezing and contortions of Centaura's small body, she did manage to fit into the back seat of the car. "Well, one thing's for sure, with all this, no one's going to notice you're a mutant!" Amanda joked. 

"Yeah," she snorted. "They will notice one very squished teenage girl in the back of a car so small . . . Where did the car come from, anyway? Who in their right mind would make something so obnoxiously small?!"

Nightcrawler laughed as he curled into the passengers seat. "We're all crushed into this thing, _liebchen._ It's rather . . ."

"We've used every adjective to describe abhorrently small that we could possibly think of, Kurt dear, give up," Amanda rested a hand on Kurt's shoulder as she raised her eyebrows, a look that clearly agreed with her comment. Then she smashed herself into the driver seat, and turned the key.

  
  


Centaura sat on the rock-like hotel bed, frazzled. The day had passed so quickly that she had barely had time to think one event over before she was flung into another. Centaura had finally gotten the courage to excuse herself and tell Kurt and Amanda that she'd order room service for dinner. The remains of her meal, unlike anything the Home had ever served, sat unmoving on the silver tray on the other side of the single-bed room. She slowly got up and walked to the window, looking out over the people who walked so easily on Seattle's steep streets. 

_They have no idea how easy their life is . . . Compared to one who must live forever in hiding,_ Centaura's strong gaze followed the path her mind took, from contemptuous one moment, to depressed, to despair. _I knew freedom once . . . knew it as well as any true human. And their hatred left that path too overgrown to follow. _

Centaura wrenched the curtains shut, turning away from the city. 

_Even in the life that they offer me - and, for the fist time, it really is an offer, something I can refuse. I might even enjoy these 'X-Men', but I cannot be free. Kip used to compare me to a wild horse. Even when others of our gang were lost to the evil drug we sold, I refused, because I knew I would no longer have even what choices were left to me. Maybe I really _am_ a centaur . . ._

A small light peeked through a crack in the curtains, a ray of hope in the shadowy hotel room. With a twitch of her tail, the curtains closed.

  
  
  
  


~II~

Centaura curled up on her bed, with the same list of daily annoyances that the Home hadn't even considered before she had actually _arrived_ there. Like chairs. They finally let she sit on a long bench, only she sat on it the 'wrong' way, so it could hold her torso section between her pairs of legs. And beds just aren't designed to hold someone with extra legs, although that was far easier than the chair debate. 

As the mutant tossed and turned, her mind returned to the abnormal event that had taken place earlier that day. _He really seemed to - to care about my reaction to him, seemed willing to _protect_ me from the other girls . . . no matter that I didn't truly need his protection. Oh, he was probably just intervening because I'm another mutant, but he was an angel compared to what those - those - those . . . I can't. I can't even think of them. Not without . . ._ Centaura took a few deep breaths, but they weren't helping. Then she gave up. She curled up even tighter, and gave her tears free reign. For more than a year she had kept her feelings hidden. At the beginning, when she had been 'free' of gang life for only four or five months, she was starting to see past the nonchalance that the social workers showed her, and she didn't like what she saw. 

Hatred.

Hatred and prejudice against mutants, her kind, a being of which she was intimately a part of - and whose name she had never even known. When, only days after coming to the Home, she was attacked by a group of six girls, she first experienced that very enmity for herself. She did beat them, but they made her remember, remember that she was one where they were many. In her still street-oriented mind, it was like one small gang in the middle of a city, surrounded by large, hostile gangs with no 'agreements' to ease up on casualties.

She had pulled off her masquerade brilliantly until about a month ago. Then, things became too much. For the first five months of her visit there had been another gang-child like herself, who helped Centaura understand the Home and the people. Without her help, the young mutant would never have made it as long as she had.

Now the girl's words began to sting as much as their blows; at least physical pain would slowly vanish. But Centaura had held on by the tip of her tail for too long, and her grip was beginning to slip. For the longest time, her survival mentality had kept her alive, along with the easy comparisons between the Home's politics and gang politics. 

The only vast difference was that now, her gang wasn't trying to help her - 

But trying to destroy her, whether they knew it or not.

_I need a new place. I need a fresh start, some place where they only know what's on the files. Where they don't think I could kill a person without reason. Because hard as I'm trying to fit in this new mold of theirs, it's going to crack if they keep turning up the heat,_* Centaura thought wryly. _I, who know nothing about molding, or even what to call it, came up with _that_?! I'm surprising myself. Still, help had better come soon - _

_Or there'll be no one left to help._

  
  


"So you met her?"

"_Ja_, Amanda. In a rather perilous position, I might add," Kurt's demonic eyes hardened as he remembered how he'd found the orphaned mutant - about to be beaten into a pulp by six of the other girls at the Home.

Amanda raised her eyebrows. "Perilous? Kurt, dear, I think you need a vacation from the X-Men when you start using words like that in an everyday sentence."

"But it _wasn't_ everyday, 'Manda! She was in over her head - I think. Oh, boy, the Prof. is going to love cross-examining this one," Kurt commented. "Remind me about her history again."

Amanda sighed as she forced the dinky little green car up one of Seattle's many steep hills. "She's a gang-born, and her gang, the Dragons, was running cocaine when the police raided their base. All but she and a younger boy, whom she claimed was one of the gang-girl's sons, were killed. Both were put into protective custody, and separated. She's been at the Home for about a year and a half."

"So we don't know anything about her? Did she get examined by a psychiatrist?" Nightcrawler wondered.

"I think she did, when they first brought her in . . ." Amanda flipped through the papers in the file. "Ah-hah! He said she wasn't as hard-core as most gangsters, and were she not a mutant, she would fade into Home life very easily. The psychiatrist suggested that they begin a facility for mutants like her, instead of putting them in the regular Home's, but he was overruled because of, lessee, budget and the fact that it would be treating mutants separately."

"Smart person."

"Pro-mutant, fully human. They went as far as to DNA-examine the poor man so they could assure themselves that he wouldn't have pity on a fellow mutant and let a potential killer out," Amanda snorted in disgust. "What bull*hit."

"Ah, but that's the way the world works, _mein liebling_. Might makes right," Kurt pointed out bitterly. As the tiny car pulled into the garage, Amanda turned to her lover. 

"Kurt . . ." 

Kurt brushed a lock of Amanda's springy blond hair out of her face, and kissed her. "I know very well how lucky I am, Miss Jimaine Szardos, and my suggested course of action is -"

_BAMF._

  
  


"Miss Szardos, I'll be frank. Centaura seems to fit in well with the girls here, but she is a fighter. She's reckless, and usually fights a group of girls by herself. Why, if she didn't vent her energy playing soccer, I don't know what kinds of hullabaloo she's be causing!" she shook her head. "I don't wish to frighten you, but she may cause trouble. Some of our staff . . . wish to keep her within our boundaries," the woman sitting before Amanda was wearing a navy blue business suit, had her hair up in an excessively traditional manner, and was one of the stuffiest people the gypsy-born had ever met.

"Mrs. Hoffman, I assure you that Centaura will be well within the boundaries set by this Home, as well as others Xavier's School for Higher Learning will set. She will not come to harm, and she will be disciplined should she disobey," Amanda told the woman. "The School is very small, and the students very close-knit and usually accepting. Should there be any problems, you have the School's agreement to contact your agency. I assume that everything is in order for her departure?"

The woman sighed, seemingly resigned. Xavier's School had fought hard over the young mutant, although none on the staff could see why, considering her past. However, Miss Szardos had remained adamant that this place was a place of second - or in Centaura's case, third - chances. And the file on the school was remarkable. Although it seemed to get destroyed a lot, there were no reports of bombings, shootings, drug usage, or any of the other crimes that most schools had to fight nowadays. It was one of the top private schools in the country, with the only downside that, unlike most schools, they came to the students and asked if they should like to go there, not the other way around.

"Miss Moscella will be ready to leave by 8:00 tomorrow morning, Miss Szardos. When will you and Mr. Wagner be picking her up?"

"Around 8:30, then, if that's admissible," Amanda suggested.

"I will inform Miss Moscella, and escort you and Mr. Wagner to the door," Mrs. Hoffman gestured, and Amanda left the office for the last time. _Good thing too - I'm due to leave back to New York day after tomorrow. Had this taken any longer . . ._ Amanda sighed. 

Nightcrawler stood as the two woman approached. "May ve accompany you to tell Centaura of her new arrangements?" Kurt asked, his German accent sticking out more than usual.

Mrs. Hoffman ground her teeth, but answered "Yes, of course, Mr. Wagner." The couple followed the woman through the hallways. When they got to a dorm room, they found the same six girls who's 'playtime' Nightcrawler had interrupted when he first met Centaura, and Centaura herself. Bruises were slowly forming on all of them, and Centaura was sporting a brand-new black eye. "Centaura Moscella! What have you been doing?"

The mutant shrugged. "Defending myself."

"From who, these girls? They probably couldn't put one bruise on you, let alone attack you!"

"Mrs. Hoffman, Centaura started it! She came in swinging, and Emily and I accidently knocked her head into one of the headboards! Honest! We didn't _mean_ to hurt her - but these things sure do!" Kurt recognized the voice of the girl who was so adamantly protesting. It was the girl who'd lead the six before. 

"'Manda, these are the same girls as before," he whispered.

"Fore sure?" 'Crawler nodded. Amanda and Kurt waited for Centaura to come to her own defense. 

However, much to their surprise, and contrary to both what Kurt had witnessed and Amanda had read, Centaura just shrugged. Mrs. Hoffman turned to the pair, sputtering hapless excuses while Centaura's eye got worse instead of better.

Finally, Kurt couldn't stand there, listening to the woman who obviously didn't care about the kids, just the politics, and sent Amanda a Look that meant he was going to do something stupid. "Mrs. Hoffman, where is the Home's refrigerator?" he asked, his fangs glinting a little as he ground his teeth in annoyance.

Mrs. Hoffman stammered out the answer to his unexpected question, and continued apologizing to Amanda. Amanda didn't try to stop her; she knew what her lover was doing. A minute later, Kurt walked into the room with a bag of ice, and pulled back his hood so he could get a better look at her eye. Mrs. Hoffman, with her back to him, didn't even notice. The girls did, though, and drew away in speechless terror.

"One of them did quite a job on you, Centaura," Kurt murmured. The mutant girl smiled wryly at him.

"Are you sure I didn't hit my head on the headboard?"

Kurt grinned back at his willing patient. "Yes. Here, put this on. And when the swelling's gone down, start packing. You're coming with us tomorrow."

Centaura gasped, both at the ice and at his statement. "Really? I'm really leaving?!"

Kurt laughed. "Pack," he ordered mockingly, tapping her nose with one blue-furred finger. Getting up, Nightcrawler pulled the hood back over his head, and joined Amanda, who was (finally) working to get the woman calmed down. "Mrs. Hoffman, we'll be back promptly 8:30 tomorrow morning. Keep a close eye on Centaura until then - after all, we don't want her entirely black and blue, do we?"

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Centaura looked right at Kurt. "Why not?" she questioned almost mockingly.

Amanda and Kurt were having trouble restraining their laughter. 

  
  


_My suit case is downstairs . . . My bed is almost bare, even of my secret things . . . And for once, I know that hope will outshine the darkness. Can this really be happening to me? Am I truly being liberated from the tenth level of hell?_

Centaura's thoughts swirled, cutting through the predawn gray in the dorm room. She had not yet been able to sleep, to busy with thinking and with dreaming. Then a draft blew in from the window, open a fraction to let in the cool, end-of-spring air. All of a sudden, Centaura's street-wise instincts picked up on a still-familiar warning of danger.

She was careful to keep her breathing slow and steady, and fought to keep her eyes closed. If she was in trouble, whoever was after her would have a harder time of things if they didn't expect her to fight back right away. 

"Is she finally asleep?" came the whisper of an all-too-familiar voice. Emily, Katerina's chief flunky. At least, that's how Centaura thought of her. Centaura forced her all-too-willing muscles into place, and prayed that they would believe her act. The Home's workers couldn't be everywhere, especially at night. 

So Centaura fought, but she knew she had lost this fight the moment the first blow struck her cheek.

  
  


Nightcrawler loaded the last of Centaura's two bags into the dinky car's trunk, and walked back inside, hoping that Centaura had at last appeared. _It's funny,_ he thought, _that Mrs. Hoffman was so adamant about her being on time, and now she's ten minutes late. I hope there's nothing wrong._

However, no X-Man has ever been known for their luck in that particular area, and Centaura was no different. When Centaura emerged into the foggy day, she was wearing her first 'civilian' clothes in the years and a half she'd been in the Home, a loose shirt and baggy jeans that fit much better than the skirt she'd worn in the Home. However, there was a hand-shaped red mark on her face, and even her tail, swinging gingerly behind her, was bruised. In shock, Kurt bit his lip, cursing softly as he tasted his own blood, and Amanda place her hand gently on Centaura's shoulder, noting the way the girl flinched, before storming into the Home.

The new cut on his lip still bleeding, Kurt crouched before Centaura. _It's difficult to talk to someone so much shorter than you - shorter than Wolvie!_ He took her hands in one of his, and asked, "Little Centaur, what _happened?_"

The girl shrugged. "They caught me very early this morning. So early it wasn't light yet, and managed a good pounding before Mrs. Hoffman came and got them off me. It's really nothing."

Kurt shook his head as Amanda stalked out of the Home. "You're as black and blue as I am, Centaura - that's something. Why, though? Why torture you so?"

Centaura shrugged again, though this time she winced. "I'm a mutant and I got out before they did. That's reason enough for them."

"Come on, Centaur-filly. We'd better get to home," Amanda gestured to the back seat of the car.

Centaura eyed it dubiously. The car, in and of itself, was small. The back seat looked like to would barely fit one person, let alone allow room for another half-a-person. "Will I fit?"

Amanda's only reply was "I hope so."

With much squeezing and contortions of Centaura's small body, she did manage to fit into the back seat of the car. "Well, one thing's for sure, with all this, no one's going to notice you're a mutant!" Amanda joked. 

"Yeah," she snorted. "They will notice one very squished teenage girl in the back of a car so small . . . Where did the car come from, anyway? Who in their right mind would make something so obnoxiously small?!"

Nightcrawler laughed as he curled into the passengers seat. "We're all crushed into this thing, _liebchen._ It's rather . . ."

"We've used every adjective to describe abhorrently small that we could possibly think of, Kurt dear, give up," Amanda rested a hand on Kurt's shoulder as she raised her eyebrows, a look that clearly agreed with her comment. Then she smashed herself into the driver seat, and turned the key.

  
  


Centaura sat on the rock-like hotel bed, frazzled. The day had passed so quickly that she had barely had time to think one event over before she was flung into another. Centaura had finally gotten the courage to excuse herself and tell Kurt and Amanda that she'd order room service for dinner. The remains of her meal, unlike anything the Home had ever served, sat unmoving on the silver tray on the other side of the single-bed room. She slowly got up and walked to the window, looking out over the people who walked so easily on Seattle's steep streets. 

_They have no idea how easy their life is . . . Compared to one who must live forever in hiding,_ Centaura's strong gaze followed the path her mind took, from contemptuous one moment, to depressed, to despair. _I knew freedom once . . . knew it as well as any true human. And their hatred left that path too overgrown to follow. _

Centaura wrenched the curtains shut, turning away from the city. 

_Even in the life that they offer me - and, for the fist time, it really is an offer, something I can refuse. I might even enjoy these 'X-Men', but I cannot be free. Kip used to compare me to a wild horse. Even when others of our gang were lost to the evil drug we sold, I refused, because I knew I would no longer have even what choices were left to me. Maybe I really _am_ a centaur . . ._

A small light peeked through a crack in the curtains, a ray of hope in the shadowy hotel room. With a twitch of her tail, the curtains closed.

  
  


**-Now, don't worry, it's not going to be this depressing the whole time . . . It will get better (the whole question is, will it get worse first?) So, since I don't even know if people like this, scroll down. See the little box? _Write_ in the little box. Gooooood reader!**

  
  
  
  



	3. Arrival

~III~

Kurt sighed, and shook his head. He stared out at the hotel window at the predawn gloom, unable to sleep. He looked at the gray sky, as if it could answer the questions running amuck in his head. He started when Amanda touched his shoulder, then sighed, putting his hand over hers. 

"We spent all day with her, 'Manda, _all day_, and I'm still not sure we know anything about her," Kurt fell back into the bed, his yellow eyes staring at the ceiling.

Amanda lay on her stomach next to him. "I just hope Xavier can help her. He is, after all, the worlds most powerful telepath."

"And the only one close to the X-Men, for the moment. Jean and Scott have all but vanished, no matter how well they keep in contact with us. Besides, to tell the truth -" Nightcrawler sighed again, and pulled Amanda on top of him. She giggled. "I don't think Jean could handle Centaura. She's lead so different a life than _any_ X-Man . . ."

"You're one to talk," Amanda pointed out. "You were, after all, raised by gypsies. Not just gypsies, a gypsy sorceress, who happened to be my mother. And you were an acrobat. So don't you go talking about strange pasts, _mein _X-Man. Hypocrisy doesn't suit you."

Kurt laughed, hugging the one person who'd known him longest. "Alright, I admit defeat. I yield to your logic. And Xavier _is_, as you said, the most powerful telepath on the planet."

Amanda smiled. She sighed, and opened her mouth to ask Kurt a question - 

And he stopped it with a kiss.

  
  


"Bye, Amanda. See you when we get back," Centaura called. The noon sun hung overhead, and with Seattle clear of it's customary misty gloom, her happy send off seemed entirely appropriate. Kurt turned the dinky green car (which he now had possession of) away from the airport, and brought them away from the city. "Um, Kurt? Where exactly are we going?"

Kurt shrugged. "I don't - ah hah! Right over there," he pointed to a small field, with a baseball diamond in the center. 

"Why?!" Centaura demanded. 

Kurt grinned, fangs showing. "You'll see." Centaura snorted.

And then the dust on the baseball diamond started blowing, and then it created quite a dust storm. Centaura was looking at the sky now, having caught on to what was happening. She didn't see anything, however, until it actually touched down.

The SR-71 Blackbird was an impressive sight, even to one who knew what to expect. Kurt had told Centaura about the aircraft, but she hadn't quite believed him. After all, she'd never seen anything like it before. Kurt was getting out of the car just as the ramp lowered out of the Blackbird's side. A white-haired African woman stepped down the ramp, a laughing smile on her face. "Ready to come home, Kurt?" she called.

Kurt's own smile grew. "First, Ororo, you should meet our newest recruit. She's . . . Well, see for yourself. We can't bring the car on the Blackbird, Centaura."

That snapped her out of her astonished reverie. "Not that we'd want to," she muttered as she wiggled her way out of the violently green vehicle. Ororo walked down off the ramp, and towards Kurt and Centaura. Ororo blinked a few times when, after Centaura pulled her front half out, she continued to get out of the car. Kurt burst out laughing at her expression when Centaura finally managed to extricate herself from the car. 

"You were expecting a unicorn?" Centaura asked wryly. Ororo shook her head.

"Forgive me, Centaura. I wasn't expecting your name to be so - "

"Literal?" she suggested.

"That's the word," Ororo smiled. "Logan, hurry up! If you're going to return this - hmm, what should I call that? It's certainly too small to be a car."

"I'm comin', Ro, I'm comin'," Centaura heard a low, gruff voice float out of the Blackbird. "Ya want to get 'Manda's car back."

"Which we do . . ." Kurt mentioned. "Nice to see you again, _mien klien fruend_."

"Hey, misfit! Back already? And with a new squirt, too."

Kurt laughed as Logan walked up. He hadn't yet seen Centaura from the side, only the front, an angle which makes her seem completely normal . . . "And this one's shorter than you!"

"At least she doesn't have a dragon - at least, I'd hope she doesn't," Logan growled affectionately, greeting his best friend.

"Nope," Centaura answered herself. "Wrong culture. My namesake's Greek, thank you," the young mutant walked away from the viciously green car towards Wolverine, her mutation becoming painfully obvious.

Wolverine blinked. 

Then blinked again.

And he wasn't blinking from the sunlight.

"H - Hel - Okay then," Logan shook his head. "I'll go take the car back."

As Wolverine squashed himself into the miniature vehicle (that's how small it is -- Wolvie has to _squash_), Centaura found herself giggling. "Are all the big bad X-Men going to react like that?" she asked Kurt, who was vainly attempting to keep a smile off his face. As usual, the fuzzy elf failed, and burst out laughing at his friend's latest misadventure.

"That was Wolverine. You'd think, being an X-Man would have him used to strange things," Ororo motioned the four-legged mutant and her escort into the Blackbird. "Still, new things surprise us all."

"You got that right! What do you think happened when I first saw the blue elf here?" Centaura laughed again, nervously, a bit taken aback by the friendly African woman. "The SR-71 Blackbird? Right?" she asked, gesturing to the jet as they walked up the ramp. The interior of the Blackbird took poor Centaura by surprise - it was almost as luxurious as the mansion. After many a missions, the X-Men deserved whatever rest they could get aboard the Blackbird.

Kurt walked into the Blackbird, feeling very close to his second home, as he could never return to his first. He sighed, and flung the small bag onto the seat next to him as he copied his bag's movement and sat down in a chair. Ororo walked gracefully over to the console and double-checked that the systems were cooling properly. Centaura stood in the doorway, surveying the interior of the Blackbird.

"You know, I'd forgotten just how hard it is for some of us, me especially and including, to blend in with non-mutants," he commented, throwing the trench coat over the arm of the seat. It was actually the first time Centaura had seen Kurt without it on . . . and though she hid her gaze, she _did_ stare for a moment. _Knowing_ that Kurt was blue and fuzzy was something entirely different than seeing it . . . _Same as knowing a girl has four legs and seeing it! _ She scolded herself. _If you want to stare, Centaura, take a look at this thing! You can't tell _any_ of this from the outside._

Ororo chuckled. "Tired of the trench coat look, Kurt? Remy _does_ want his coat back before he leaves, so suppose it's a good thing you didn't get attached."

Kurt looked up as Ororo sat in one of the seats in the row in front of him. "Gambit's leaving? Any idea why? The Cajun can be very, hm, secretive."

"Actually, for once, he's practically broadcasting the reason!"

"_Remy?!_"

"Yes. He and Rogue -"

"AH! That explains it. 'He and Rogue'," Kurt grinned mischievously.

"Oh, no, you don't! You're kin to Bobby, I swear. Put those fangs of yours away, elf. He and Rogue are taking a road trip down to New Orleans, through Rogue's hometown," Ororo waggled her finger at Kurt, who blinked a few times and looked innocent.

"Um, question?" Centaura interrupted before the conversation went any farther. _Not just one, but it's the only one relevant at the moment_. "Where and how am I supposed to sit?"

"I . . . hm. Well." Ororo looked around the Blackbird. For all it's luxury, it lacked a seat that Centaura could easily sit in. Centaura sighed.

"So no one thought about it? Because no other mutant's ever needed such attention?"

"We knew in our heads what you looked like, but I don't think any of us really thought about what kinds of things that would make . . . difficult. This will make things interesting. I ought to call ahead and warn the mansion . . . Is there anything else that you can think of that might need, well, tweaking, Centaura? Besides chairs?"

"Not really. But that doesn't solve the problem of what I'm going to do now . . ." she hinted.

Kurt looked around the jet. "Call ahead, Ro. I'll help Centaura."

By the time Ororo had gotten hold of someone at the mansion who had an idea about what to do about Centaura, the two other mutants had cobbled together something for the poor girl to sit on. "I finally got hold of the mansion . . . Sean's over for a visit. He had an idea or two that we think will work, but you're going to have to be there, Centaura. Dinner the first night you're home may be interesting!" Ororo and Kurt laughed and picked up their pervious conversation. Centaura sat on the makeshift bench, thinking hard. 

_Home . . . Ororo's home, mine or . . . both of ours? I've never come to a _place_ that opened it's arms to me before. People, once yes . . . But that was so long ago. I've learned the hard way since then. When I think of my time in the gang, it's not as most of my life, it's a fond, far-away memory, more like a dream than anything else. What I mostly remember is reality coming in and stomping my dreamworld into the ground with the force of it's hatred for me. Or rather, for my kind. So what's a place that is for only my kind going to be like? Do they hate too? Do they hate humans? And if they do, what am I going to do?_

  
  


Centaura gripped the edges of her seat as the Blackbird touched down. The mansion had come into view over the treetops that covered the sprawling grounds of the Xavier estate, and the young mutant had been suitably impressed. Old, mud-red brick covered a broad, sturdy frame that had been rebuilt many times over the past decades. Within it's seemingly age-worn walls were secrets, technology not available to the everyday American, and all the information on scores of 'renegade' mutants that the advanced computers could hold. Also dwelling inside the red brick walls were half a dozen of those very mutants, whose genetic quirk, like Centaura's own, gave them an evolutionary boost over baseline humans. 

The sunlight slimmed into a thin line above the Blackbird, then vanished altogether as the jet itself vanished from sight. Below ground, the sounds of the SR-71 Blackbird cooling filled the oppressive, shadowy silence.

Wolverine glanced around the dark hanger. "Are we early?" he growled suspiciously.

The lights inside the Blackbird blinked off as the jet cooled, and Nightcrawlers yellow eyes almost lit up the darkness. Three of the quartet could see in the murky gloom within the Blackbird. One could not. "I'd love to know what's going on," Centaura whispered. "I can't see anything."

Logan made an exasperated sound. "Well, there goes the hope that ya can see in the dark. This ain't right, kid. Where're the flamin' telepaths when ya need 'em?"

"Hopefully, inside the mansion, having forgotten that we were to arrive. Although considering that Xavier doesn't let any psiconic presence go unnoticed on the grounds, that theory is -"

"Unlikely," Storm finished for Nightcrawler. She tossed two wrist radios to Nightcrawler and Wolverine, and took one for herself and Centaura. "Wolverine, Nightcrawler, investigate. I'll bring Centaura into the mansion, and see if I can find out what's going on," Storm strapped her radio onto her wrist, as Nightcrawler, Wolverine and Centaura did the same. "Keep in audio contact with me at all times, and if you sense anything, tell me."

Wolverine made his way down the Blackbird's ramp into the pitch black hanger bay, while Nightcrawler flashed Centaura a reassuring grin and said, "I'm already gone!" 

_BAMF._

"Oror-"

"Storm. We all have code names that we use to keep our various enemies from knowing our true identities. For many of us, it's a formality, but still - for now, I'm Storm. Keep as quiet as you can, and follow me," Storm whispered to her young charge.

"How?" Centaura whispered sharply back. "I can't see my hand an inch from my face in this!"

Storm paused at the base of the Blackbirds exit ramp. "Wrap your tail around my waist and walk backwards, that will give us a rear guard and keep you from straying."

As they started out across the inky hanger, Centaura listened for anything that might give an attacker away. She wished fervently that she had a gun, or a weapon of any kind, but all she had was her physical strength and what surprise she could extract out of her mutation. "Find anything?" Storm whispered into her wrist radio.

"Nothing. Not yet anyway," Wolverine answered tersely.

"Although it does look as if they were prepared for our arrival. There's a few big banners, and lots of 'Welcome' everything," added Nightcrawler. "You have any trouble yet?"

"Not yet, and we're almost there. About ten more feet to go."

By now, Centaura thought that their nerves were a little much for coming home to a hanger with the lights out, but she kept to their rules. She didn't see any real reason for them, besides paranoia, but she did all the same.

All of a sudden, Storm stopped, and Centaura glanced behind her to see an electronic number pad light up. The mutant woman punched in an access code, and the door slid open.

The hallway beyond was brightly lit, unlike the hanger bay, although there was no sign of a fight . . . or anything else, for that matter. Storm and Centaura made their way down the hallway, and up a short flight of stairs without any mishaps.

When the radio at Storm's wrist crackled to life, both mutants fairly leapt into the air. Centaura let out a huge breath and put her hand over her heart as Nightcrawler voice came over the radio.

"We're still okay down here. I've got the light back on, and everything looks mostly normal," Nightcrawler reported.

"'Mostly'?"

"Yeah, Ro. There's somethin' funny goin' on, because this entire place is as clean as a book on Mother Theresa's sins. It's not somethin' the X-Men are good at; I can't see 'em getting the flamin' _hanger_ this clean while we were gone. It's weird, and it's got my senses tinglin', Fearless Leader," explained Wolverine.

Storm paused for a moment as she took in the mansion around she and Centaura. "I hate to say this, but we're seeing the same thing. Not a speck of dust on the floor. Keep me posted, you two," Storm ordered, and she and Centaura continued.

Centaura tried to look around as she walked, but that was easier said than done. Her nerves were tense, and as paranoid as she thought this search really was - shouldn't _someone_ have come to meet them by now? The mansion, far ritzier than anything else she'd ever seen, passed by in a blur. 

"Sean!" Storm exclaimed, and Centaura whirled around to see what had made the African woman cry out. There was a middle-aged man lying on the floor, bright red hair fallen in a circle around his head. As Ororo bent down to check his pulse, the man slowly woke, blinking rapidly.

"Ro? Is that ye, Ororo? Glory!" Sean sat up suddenly and stared right at Centaura. "Who - Ach, ye're the new student, ain't ye? Sorry lass, this is rather strange."

"Sean, what happened? We found the hanger dark, and you're the first person we've run into. Nightcrawler and Wolverine are still in the hanger; they got the lights back on in there."

"Speak of the devil . . ." Centaura muttered as Nightcrawler's voice issued from the radio.

"We didn't find anything abnormal, besides the state of this place. We're coming back in; should we expect anything?"

"We just found Sean. He was lying unconscious in the doorway to the lounge," Storm told the pair.

"Is he alright?" 

"I seem to be, lad, but we'll see, won't we?" Sean answered for Storm. "So ye haven't run into any of the others yet?"

"No. Nightcrawler, Wolverine, meet us in to lounge. What, Centaura?"

"Storm? I think we hit the jackpot," Centaura's voice sounded chilled, not truly frightening, but definitely anxious. "Tell me you recognize these people."

When Storm looked over the back of the couch that obscured the rest of the lounge from view, there was a sharp intake of breath. "Goddess," she whispered. Sean pulled himself up to see what had so startled his two companions, and his sentiments echoed theirs. 

"Glory!"


	4. Dragonflight

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, Marvel does, I'm not making any money, yadda yadda yadda. I also don't own Pern, or any corresponding books, series, or characters. Pern and the series belongs to author Anne McCaffrey, not to me.

Authors Note: I'm still trolling for reviews here! Type in the nice little box below the story! What you hate, what you love, predict what's going to happen, etc etc etc. 

Please? 

  
  


~IV~

Centaura surveyed the waking mutants carefully. She and Storm had discovered everyone in the mansion unconscious in the lounge. Even professor Xavier, whom she'd heard much about from both Kurt and Amanda, had fallen prey to - 

Whatever it was. 

"Are you sure no one saw anything? No trace of mind wipes, Professor?" Ororo asked as she helped Remy into one of the chairs. Gambit had his hands on his temples.

Xavier shook his head, then winced with the pain that the simple movement caused. "No. We all simply - fell asleep. Not even a trace of what happened to us, or who caused it -"

"Besides the fact that everything is eerily clean," Kurt added as he helped Betsy onto the couch. "Xavier, have you gotten a chance to check the computer systems yet?"

A purple butterfly appeared above Betsy's head. "I'm doing it," she murmured. 

"Is she okay to do that, Professor? I mean, you're still reeling from - whatever this was," Nightcrawler asked.

"Everything checks out fine, although we might want to go over it physically later. Kurt's right, I'm as tired as I would be if I'd been using my powers for hours on end," Betsy answered for the Professor.

"Meanwhile -" Ororo glanced over at Centaura, whom none of the X-Men besides Sean had noticed. "We have someone for you to meet."

"Oh - Centaura! Forgive me, I forgot . . ." as every eye in the mansion turned on the young mutant, Centaura backed in on herself. The end of her tail lashed, making her already unorthodox appearance even more so. _*Don't be afraid, child. We're here to help you.*_

"I sure hope so, considering what you could do to me if you didn't have the best of intentions," Centaura commented shakily. She backed up slowly, trying to get herself into a position where she could more easily defend herself. It wasn't a conscious movement; it just happened. One of the side-effects of living most of her life on the street.

Kurt exchanged a glance with the professor. _Some of the worst things in history, mein herr, have been done with the best of intentions,_ Kurt noted.

_*Yes, Kurt . . . We'll have to be careful about this one.*_

_You can't mean that we'll have to watch her! _Look_ at her, Xavier! She's practically panicked!_

_*Are you truly so convinced of her sincerity?*_

_The only other person I've been so convinced of in the past few decades has been Amanda!_

_*She did drag us to hell and back.*_

**_Why does that keep being brought up?!_**__

_*Never mind. If you are so entirely certain of her, Kurt, would you be her official sponsor?*_

_I was under the impression that I already was_, Nightcrawler answered caustically.__

_*Well. Alright, then - let's hope this works out for the best,*_ Xavier sighed..

During Xavier and Kurt's silent conversation, Ororo had responded to Centaura's remark. "Child, we _never_ harm anyone without sufficient reason."

That only served to, again unconsciously, cause Centaura to become more aware of her surroundings, picking out the best ways to get through the crowd of mutants should she need to escape. 'Sufficient reason' had often been minor things all her life, though she scarcely realized that she had any reaction at all to Xavier and Ororo's observations.

"Alright, enough. There'll be time enough later for introductions," Betsy smiled at the young mutant. "I'll show you to your room. Although it may not be exactly to your liking . . . we had very little idea of what to expect from you," Psylocke rolled her eyes. "You did come on very short notice."

Centaura snorted, trying to contain the spurt of giggles that wry remark set off. "Anyway," Betsy continued. "Should you decide to stay, you can always redo it."

They had just reach the top of the staircase when Betsy said that. Centaura grabbed her arm, halting her progress down the corridor. "Wait minute - 'should I decide to stay'? You mean I could leave?"

Looking rather startled, Betsy blinked. "Well; of course. It's not as if we're forcing you to stay here!"

Centaura thought that over. "Where else could I go?"

To that, Betsy had no answer.

  
  


"Have a good time, _mein fruends_! Try not to maim each other - or anyone else!" Kurt called as the bright red convertible vanished through the gates of the mansion. "Will they be alright, Ro?"

Storm smiled. "Probably. Assuming that, as you said, they don't get into one of their fights and come to blows."

Sighing, Kurt turned to Ororo and opened the mansion door for his friend. "After you, wind-rider," he said, bowing to her. 

"Flirt," she accused. "If Amanda ever caught you . . ." she left the threat hanging, wagging her finger at him. "The question is whether or not _we'll_ be alright. Remy left some of his cooking behind."

Kurt groaned. "With express orders to eat it, I'll bet."

There was a surprised screech from the kitchen.

"Drake! What did you do now?" Ororo yelled just as Bobby called, "I didn't do it!"

Nightcrawler and Storm exchanged a startled glance. "Centaura!" they cried. "She's discovered Remy's gumbo - and I don't think she's ever even _tried_ gumbo before!" Kurt continued. By the time they got back into the mansion and made their way to the kitchen, Centaura was munching on a snowball, and Bobby was beside himself with laughter. The quadrupedal mutant had a sour look on her face. She turned to Kurt and accused "Why didn't someone _warn_ me?! And what exactly is that -" she pointed to the gumbo with a shaking finger. "_Concoction_ made of, besides lava??" By this time, Bobby was more than beside himself, he was nearly on the floor. "And what _vicious_, heartless person labeled it clam chowder??!"

Ororo, Kurt, and the newly-arrived Betsy all turned accusingly on Bobby. "You didn't do it, did you?" 

Bobby fled the room, a certain four-legged mutant fast on his heels.

"He'd better hope that those extra legs don't give her extra speed - whoops! Down he goes!" Kurt cried as Centaura tackled Bobby. 

"Oh, no you don't!" she yelled gleefully. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, bucked up onto her rear legs, and kicked him all the way to a couch in the hall. When she landed safely back on the ground, she wiped her hands and turned back to the kitchen. "Now, is that stuff nuclear, or can someone eat it?"

Kurt, who was by now laughing almost as hard as Bobby had been, was saved from having to answer by Betsy. "It's edible, Centaura, but not in . . . this form. Remy comes straight from New Orleans."

"You mean he can cook?" the shock was evident on her face.

"Rivals the best of us in his areas," Betsy admitted, rolling her eyes.

Centaura thought about that for a minute. "I am going to have a nice, safe, ham sandwich."

"It's spiced ham," Kurt managed to wheeze. Centaura wore a foul look, and Bobby was struggling up from the couch.

"Is nothing in this house safe??"

Ororo shook her head, and walked into the hall to help Bobby up. Betsy shook her head. "Not really. Not even -"

_*Centaura? When you're finished, would you have Kurt show you the Danger Room, and meet me there?*_

"Sure, Professor," Centaura replied. She shivered. "I think I'm glad baldy's on our side. I don't even want to think about what a telepath with that much power could do to a person!"

Betsy grinned. "I was going to say, 'Not even your thoughts', but I guess you've figured that out."

_*Speaking of thoughts, Betsy, Centaura's mind is as well-shielded as one could expect a newcomer's to be, but she needs training. Tomorrow?*_

Betsy raised an eyebrow as Centaura rummaged through the fridge, looking for something she thought she could eat. "So soon?" Betsy whispered.

_*Well, considering recent happenings - *_

Betsy sighed. "Alright, but I think you're pushing her," Betsy turned back to Centaura, who was pulling a few things out of the fridge. "Centaura, what exactly are you looking for?"

"Unseasoned lunchmeat," came the muffled reply. "Ah-hah!" Centaura drew her head out of the fridge and grabbed a slice of bread from the counter. 

"You like corned beef?" Kurt blinked. "Well, at least someone besides Rogue will eat it."

Centaura shrugged. She crushed the corned beef between the bread, and slipped out of the kitchen as Kurt and Betsy picked up the conversation. Kurt turned to say something to Centaura - 

And Centaura wasn't there.

Betsy put the bread away with a wave of her hand, forcing Wolvie to duck as he sauntered into the room. Cocking her grin, Betsy gestured, and the bread began chasing Logan around the kitchen, diving suicidally at him. Annoyed, he clenched his fist and placed it in the path of the bread.

_SNICKT._

Betsy shook her finger at Logan as she floated the bread back to it's proper place. "Bad Logan. What're we to do for sandwiches?"

"Go out for more bread," he growled. "Did I see a tail vanished from here?"

Kurt answered. "_Ja_. Centaura seems outgoing, but . . ."

"Don't like ta be in the same room with a whole bunch o' us for very long," Logan finished. "I can't decide whether she'd shy, hiding, or just unused to the situation."

"_What_ situation?" Betsy demanded. The girl's quixotic behavior was driving the once-telepath nuts, trying to second-guess the girl. 

Logan gestured to the tableau that she, he and Kurt created. He still had three adamantium claws out, her hair was purple, and Kurt was, well . . . Kurt. "Mutants livin' together. Never findin' bein' attacked by a floatin' loaf of bread," he glared at Psyloke. "Strange."

"She's definitely more used to being condemned than accepted, that's for sure," Kurt added. Betsy looked curiously at Kurt. "Where did she get all those bruises?" she asked slowly.

Sighing, Kurt replied. "The girls at the Home where she used to stay. The first time I met her, I rescued her from a mob of her own roommates!"

"What?" Betsy breathed.

Kurt nodded. "The day Amanda and I confirmed her being moved here, we stumbled across a fight in the making. One of the girls gave Centaura that beautiful sunrise on her left eye. I tell you, that morning we picked her up, she was almost as black and blue as I am."

"What about before that? Before she was at that 'Home'?" Betsy asked, her curiosity piqued.

"She was in a gang. They dealt cocaine, but like most good dealers, didn't use it themselves. When the police raided their base, everyone but Centaura and a younger boy, who she claimed was one of the girls' son, was killed. She passed every test for eligibility, and probably would have faded into the woodwork - "

"But the woodwork doesn't have four legs and a tail," Logan finished.

"Precisely."

  
  


Centaura slowly sat down on her bed, her whole head feeling like it was tingling. She clutched the corned beef sandwich and let out a long, confused-sounding sigh. She had been here less than a day, and had no idea what to make of the place. Or the people within. Yesterday, she had arrived in the middle of a really strange crisis. 

However, though the matter had slightly freaked _her_ out, none of the X-Men seemed particularly worried. _It's like this happens all the time,_ she thought to herself. _Like getting attacked - if it _was_ an attack! - in really odd ways seemed perfectly normal!_ Absentmindedly, she reached out her tail and closed her door. 

_I fell like I'm still in that hotel, in Seattle,_ Centaura looked around again. The colorful panorama in her room was unlike anything she'd ever seen before outside of neon. The Home had been gray. Gray seem to be the uniform color; everything was gray. 

Gnawing on the sandwich (which, she reflected, seemed to be slightly stale), she picked up the large tome from the table. Entitled Dragonquest, by Anne McCaffrey ({Really, really good book, read Dragonflight first! -Jimaine}), she'd found it when she'd found Xavier's library late last night. 

The awe she'd felt when she'd stumbled across that huge room very nearly matched that she'd felt when Kurt had brought her ice at the Home. Unable to sleep, she had gotten up and slipped down the hall. The carpets made it rather easy for her to move about unheard, and she'd wandered the hallways of the mansion for nearly an hour when, attempting to find her room again, she'd stumbled across a colossal room. At first, she hadn't been able to see what such an enormous room was built to hold. Taking a chance that none of the X-Men had rooms nearby, she'd turned on one of the smaller lights.

And gasped.

The room must have been two stories tall, lined floor-to-ceiling with books. ({ala _Disney_'s "Beauty and the Beast"}). As well-sectioned as a library, small placards announced the genre, author, and title of the volumes on each shelf. Centaura had hesitatingly made her way towards the sci-fi/fantasy section, intrigued. She'd never actually read a science fiction or fantasy book, and the concept . . . puzzled her. Choosing what had seemed like the most bizarre title (at least, to her), she began to flip through a fantasy called Dragonflight. Close to four hours later, when the gray of false dawn was shimmering through the window, she snapped the book closed and made her way back to the section where she'd found it. 

Biting her lip, she grabbed the sequel before making her way back to her room. Even in the light, it had taken her fifteen minutes to find it again.

Centaura sighed. Three new worlds in one day - it was a little much. The mansion, and the X-Men, were a new world, as was reading, and the fantasy world of Pern . . . Centaura replaced Dragonquest on her night stand.

Too much on far too little sleep last night.

  
  


"Centaura, where - ach," Nightcrawler poked his head in her door. Centaura lay asleep on her bed, the remains of the corned beef sandwich on her night stand. Rolling his eyes and smiling, he snatched a blanket from the shelf above her and covered her. Then he tiptoed out of the room, silent as a shadow.

"Kurt, what - ?" Ororo asked when she saw him slip out of Centaura's room.

Kurt shut the door with his tail. "I don't think the _fraulien_ got much sleep last night. I believe she's catching up. Not to mention that we're four hours ahead of the time she's lived in all her life."

"Meaning . . .?"

"Ach, let her sleep!"


	5. Soccer

Disclaimer: As usual, none of this saving Centaura belong to me. It'd be nice if it did . . .

Authors Note: I apologize for taking so long to update; way too many other stories to work on. I have three new fics up, yay, click my name and read them (please!). And high school is evil. Anyway; R&R!

~V~

When Centaura woke again, it was around midnight in Westchester.

To Centaura, it felt like barely nine. She was still in Seattle, on the Pacific ocean . . . until she remembered that she hadn't seen Seattle in three days. Even though her clock read, in bright red numbers, 12:04 am, she got up and made her way to the only place in the mansion, including her room, that she could find with relative ease. 

In the soft light from the smallest lamp, the books beckoned to her. Introduced to the largest amount of books that she'd ever seen in one place at the same time she was introduced to the X-Men, Centaura found herself spending her days in the rest of the mansion, with and without the other X-Men, and her nights here. Three nights in a row she'd come here; the first time accidently, the second and third times . . . not so accidently. And each night, she'd been kept reading by an author who seemed to enjoy running up crisis after crisis in her books, so her readers could never put them down.

The White Dragon was the third in a trilogy, and as Centaura replaced Dragonquest, which she'd finished last night, she discovered that there was much more to Anne McCaffrey's world of Pern than just one trilogy. Dragon books abounded the area around her, and she sighed in delight. 

Still, The White Dragon was next. 

She'd been engrossed for nearly an hour when she heard footfalls through her book-induced haze. "You know, you really ought to read Dragonsong, Dragonsinger and Dragondrums before you tackle The White Dragon."

"Wahh!" Centaura dropped the book and leapt up in a fighting stance before she even registered the voice. "Storm!"

Ororo chuckled. "You can't finish that one in a night, anyway," Ororo walked over to the bookshelves and picked out a slimmer novel. Titled Dragonsong, there was a girl on the cover, surrounded by tiny dragons called fire lizards. "Try this one. It makes more sense, chronologically. The main character, Menolly, is present for young Ruth's hatching in the very first novel," Ororo handed the book to an astonished Centaura. Sitting down next to her, Ororo pointed to the clock on the wall. "It's nearly one in the morning, child. What has kept you from your bed for three nights running? I mean, besides Anne McCaffrey's quite engaging world of Pern."

Centaura hesitated. Storm was probably the only one of the X-Men besides Xavier who'd managed to intimidate her. "I just couldn't sleep. To me, it's really only ten. And how in the world did you know I've been in here every night?"

Ororo smiled secretly. "When you fell asleep the day after Kurt brought you, I guessed you'd been wandering that night. You really to have quite the endurance, reading in here till probably four in the morning, sleeping a few hours, and then waking up with the rest of us who've slept all night!"

Centaura shrugged. "So, wait a minute, explain this to me: I'm not in trouble?"

"Of course not! Why would you be? Insomnia wasn't a crime the last time I checked."

Centaura snorted. "Well, the last time I checked it most certainly was! Found reading late at night at the Home, and oh, were you in trouble!"

Ororo gazed down at the girl who presented such an mystery. "Well, things are a bit different here. You're welcome to read, but remember - you've got your first Danger Room session tomorrow, and if you're not careful . . ." Ororo let the threat hang.

"I've seen you guys do a few sessions, I think I can handle whatever Xavier throws at me. Although he is testing me, you'd better make sure that he really does find my limit."

"I'll remind him. Now, try that, and the other two, before The White Dragon, and things will make much more sense. And get some sleep, child! More than five hours!"

"Good night, Storm."

"Good night, Centaura," Ororo walked down the hall as Centaura opened the book she'd recommended. She's an enigma, that one. She's doing her best to fit in here, and yet doesn't seem to realize that she needn't 'fit in'; we'll make room. If she proves to be X-Men material and not Gen. X material. Although I have the feeling that others of her own age wouldn't really be her true age. Storm floated up to her attic on an obliging zephyr, musing on the newest - and perhaps most paradoxical - student Xavier's School For Higher Learning had ever opened it's doors for.

She led a gang life and ran drugs, but exhibits very little in the mannerisms I would expect from someone with that history. It's as if something made her, forced her, into a new mold. One that suited society at large. A polite, uptight, even stiff girl with just a hint of humor. She's far too used to hiding, no matter that she'll essentially be hiding here. Just like the rest of us, Ororo stared out her skylight at the winking stars, tired and puzzled. I just wish we could find something that she enjoys, something that she's good at.

She didn't have long to wait.

  
  


Centaura shifted from foot to foot, her nerves betraying her. She hadn't done much fighting in the past two years, with the notable exception of defending herself against the Home girls. Although Xavier reassured her that this would be a fairly rudimentary test . . .

  
  


"We are goin' ta be a week repairin' what she did ta the flamin' room!" Logan moaned. Kurt just laughed. 

"Isn't it worth it, mein fruend? Someone else on the team who can fight nearly as well as you could when you came!"

"Yeah, well, she's just a kid, Kurt. An' she reminds me o' Rogue sometimes. She's kinda . . . folded in on herself."

"Well then, we will have to unfold her, won't we?"

Logan gave Kurt a speculative look. Kurt became wary, noting a glint in his eyes.

"If Amanda catches you . . ."

Kurt made an indignant sound, outraged, and cuffed Logan. "You . . . you . . .!"

Logan only laughed. 

  
  


Centaura bolted the instant she got the chance. After her rather interesting DR session, Xavier had closeted himself and her in his office and gave her a pop quiz on all the education she'd ever had (which, admittedly, was not much). She'd had more than she thought she could possibly take, and was about to force her way out of the room, when Xavier had frozen, eyes wide. While she stared at him, he held that position for about thirty seconds before relaxing.

"Lilandra," he murmured. "Centaura, thank you, you're welcome to go now," he gestured to the door. 

Since the rather impromptu interrogation, she'd seen neither hide nor hair of any of the X-Men. It was beginning to annoy her. So, to calm her nerves, she yanked open the mansion door (with rather more force than necessary), leaped down the steps, and ran. She skidded to a halt next to one of the garage doors. It had been left open, and something within had piqued her curiosity. Less then five minutes later, after filling the aged ball with air, Centaura popped it into the air with her feet. Finally, something I know how to do! 

When Bobby noticed what Centaura was doing, he blinked. He was watching her do things with that black-and-white sphere that he'd never dreamed possible within the rules of soccer! 

Figuring on pulling something to get back at Centaura for kicking him from the kitchen to the hallway, Bobby started outside. When he got out to Centaura, he'd acquired another teammate who wanted to see what had Bobby so interested. Betsy followed (although somewhat warily) Iceman outside.

"Hey, Centaura! Can you play soccer as well as you can do those fancy tricks?"

She grinned, a devilish, shrewd, cunning grin that should have made Bobby wary. That's a challenge if I ever heard one, she thought gleefully. "Why, Bobby, why don't you and Betsy find out for yourselves? I already have the goals set up. Shall we play two-on-one?"

"Fine. You and Betsy -"

Betsy was looking nervous, but Centaura's sly grin only grew. "Oh, no, Bobby Drake. You and Betsy against me."

Bobby shrugged, and Betsy looked rather helplessly towards the mansion. She stayed back by the goal, playing goalie and praying Bobby could keep her out of whatever mad scheme he had in mind. 

From the moment Bobby kicked off, it was obvious who was going to win.

Centaura took the ball as soon as it rolled off Bobby's foot, and raced down the field with it. She hadn't set up the field very big; she'd been practicing by herself. She also wasn't very fast, but no matter how often Bobby caught up with her, he found himself tripping over his own legs trying to keep up with her four. She took malicious glee in running circles around Bobby before scoring almost effortlessly. Even when Betsy used her telekinesis, Centaura pinned the ball and moved it in such dizzying patterns that Betsy lost control.

When Bobby surrendered half and hour later, the score was Bobby&Betsy: 1. Centaura: 7.

"Where did you learn that?" Bobby demanded, sheathing himself in ice to cool down. 

Centaura shrugged, her grin moving not an inch.

"Just . . . doing what comes naturally."

The girl smiled sweetly at him, and trotted back to the garage to replace the ball.

"I'm beginning to regret that moment of laziness when I left the garage open . . ." Bobby muttered.

Betsy, sweating just as badly but unable to cool herself down, reached over and shoved Bobby telekinetically. "Hey!"

"That's what you get for acting without knowledge and involving others! You had no idea she was that good, did you? And you saw her doing those tricks! Idiot!"

When poor Drake stumbled back into the mansion, he found a very amused Wolverine leaning against the stair rail. Logan had on a pitiless expression, as though he were just barely containing his laughter. "Have a good workout, Snowballs-for-brains?"

"I am soooo not in the mood," Bobby growled, and in a fit of spite froze Logan's hand to the stair rail before stomping upstairs.

  
  


"Ororo . . ."

"Charles, we'll be fine. The X-Men have gotten used to working without you; it is no longer a handicap. Go. Lilandra needs you more right now."

Xavier nodded. "Kurt? Keep an eye on young Centaura. She trusts you."

Kurt hesitated. "Professor . . . I won't betray that trust."

Xavier smiled slightly and nodded. "Give my regards to Amanda. I'll contact you when I return." With that, Xavier boarded the Shi'ar craft that would bring him to Empress Lilandra, Majestrix Shi'ar, the woman he loved.

"That's new," came a faint, awe-stricken voice from behind them. Betsy, Ororo, Kurt and Bobby whirled, and Logan shook his head. He'd known the girl was standing there. "Centaura!" came Ororo's surprised voice. 

Betsy was close to laughter. "I think we've forgotten exactly how we felt when we were first X-Men - wanting to be into everything and wanting to know exactly what the team was up to that didn't include us."

"No, actually, I just heard something interesting and came to investigate," Centaura corrected. 

"Okay, who wants to explain the Shi'ar and other various interstellar races to the newcomer?" Bobby asked mockingly. "That and time-travel, alternate timelines, and that one time you people ran into Captain Picard."

"Actually, we ran into Jean-Luc twice," Ororo commented. Logan glanced sideways at her. no one else had been allowed, because of Starfleet Protocol, to call the Captain by his first name. Come ta think o' it, 'Ro wasn't either . . . "But that is a very twisted story, and all thanks to our teleporting friend over here."

"Hey! Only the second time was my fault!" Kurt protested. "And how was I to know that the verteron particles I pick up while teleporting would land us back in their plane of existence?!"

Centaura stared at the entire assembly for nearly a full minute, blinking, then shook her head. "Only time will get me used to sentences like that," she muttered. 

  
  


"Amanda! Help, get me out of here!" Centaura said, seeing the flight attendant walking towards her. "Do you have any idea how confusing this is? How many alternate realities these people are in? And how many damn species there are out there? Kree, Skrull, Shi'ar, I'm beginning to get dizzy!"

Amanda buckled over laughing, as Centaura said all of this very quickly. "Something the matter?" Kurt asked as he appeared at 'Manda's side with a BAMF. 

"Just wondering why you're subjecting the poor child to death by forced-tale of the X-Men's history so soon. Are you that anxious to get rid of her?"

"She kinda ran into a Shi'ar ship before we realized what she'd seen."

Amanda looked up at Kurt from her doubled-over position. "How did she manage that?"

"Lilandra called."

"And Xavier left like a good consort."

"Ja. So we're taking turns telling Centaura all about - all this," Kurt finished.

"It's going to kill her," Amanda predicted as she stood up. "Centaura, dear, did you really ask for all this?"

Centaura nodded forlornly. "I had no idea what I was getting into."

Amanda put a hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing even harder. "Trust me, I did the same thing; being admitted into the X-Men's trust is a weird experience."

"Even if you're the daughter of a sorceress?"

"Even if you're a sorceress yourself," Amanda retorted. Kurt nudged her with his elbow, and Amanda shot him a Look. Kurt subsided.

"Wish me luck?" she asked plaintively.

"Luck, Filly," Amanda said, smirking a little. Kurt rolled his eyes.

  
  


"Good morning, Filly," Bobby teased from across the hall.

"Robert Drake, if you call me that one more time, you're going to face the reality of life as a popsicle: a stick through your middle!"

Centaura trotted down the hallway towards the kitchen as Bobby stared after her. "Well," he muttered. "That's a new one."

Centaura slammed her door behind her, locking away the world. I . . . I . . . I'm too damn frazzled to even described how frazzled I am! Her last session in the Danger Room had been as successful as her others, as she was beginning to learn how to integrate her rather - unique - method into the X-Men's overly unorthodox techniques. There had been something about her last session, she hadn't been able to put her finger on it, but . . . 

It was too much like my whole messed-up life. Too much like the gang wars the Dragons got into - but this time it was mutant against mutant, instead of gang against gang. X-Men and the Brotherhood. Lead by that shapeshifter, Mystique - Kurt's mother. Which in and of itself is a little weird to contemplate, then she laughed at herself, through her slowly spiraling dispirited mood. Contemplate. Hah. I've been reading too much, spent too much time in manners lessons at the Home. The Home, with those girls . . .

Had there been a telepath of any power on mansion grounds, they would have instantly picked up on Centaura. There was a well in her soul as deep as hell itself, and she was headed towards the bottom very quickly.

  
  


Amanda sat curled up next to Kurt, her head on his shoulder, watching a re-run of a T.V. miniseries whose name she didn't even know. There was a half-wolf, a mirror, and a prince who'd been turned into a dog. That was the extent of her knowledge. C'mon, girl, she scolded herself. It's not like you can even remember a time in your life when you didn't know him. Take a deep breath, and everything will be fine. 

As often as she tried to convince herself of that, deep in her heart, she knew that she was unsure. However, she told that little fragment to take a long walk off a short pier. "Kurt?"

"Ja, liebling?"

"I -"

"KurtKurtKurtKurtNIGHTCRAWLER!!!" Bobby yelled.

Kurt and Amanda whipped around and stared as Bobby raced into the room, Amanda cursing mentally for being interrupted. "What?!" Kurt demanded. 

"Uh, well, there's a problem."

Kurt growled, rolling his eyes. "I'd figured that, considering your remarkable entrance."

"It's Centaura."

"What!?"

"She's, uh, kinda, locked herself in her room. And even 'Ro can't get the lock to open."

"Have you considered that she might just want some privacy?"

"Did you see her at breakfast this morning ?"

"Uh, no . . ."

"Dinner last night?"

"Nien."

"Anytime yesterday afternoon?"

"No. Why?"

"Because that's how long she's been in her room, Kurt," Sean explained as he came down the stairs. "An' Logan's worried about her. I dunno what he can smell, but emotions give off scents."

"And you've all decided I'm her savior why . . .?"

"Because ye can get in her room. An' Charles said the girl trusted ye," Sean pointed out. "I'd volunteer, but I've got to get back to Massachusetts. Emma will have me hide if I stay any longer." 

Indeed, Banshee was decked out with what little luggage he'd come with. Amanda sighed. She would have to wait. "See you later, Sean," she nodded to the Irishman. "C'mon, fuzzy. Let's see if we can get that little centaur to open up."

  
  


Tap.

Centaura ignored it.

Tap.

She frowned at the door.

Tap.

Didn't they get it?

TAP.

Hm. Apparently not.

"Centaura?"

Kurt!

"You in there?" a new voice . . . Amanda!


	6. Questions

Disclaimer: None of this is mine, yadda yadda yadda, Marvel owns it all . . . (and I just got three REALLY cool comic collections for Christmas, so who'm I ta argue?)

Authors Note: Yes, this is probably the last and/or second-to-last chapter in this my first posted fanfiction! Of course, no one said that the SERIES had to stop with the first . . . in fact, this is kinda like a prologue . . . heh. Well, if you care, click my name to see if I've started the sequel (or the third . . . I was thinking of writing that one first . . . or rather second . . . WHATEVER). And a friendly warning to the people was are reading this w/in the first ten days of posting: I will be away from computers for the next ten days or more and will be unable to post the next and last chapter, aka the Epilogue. Don't hurt me.

-Jimaine

  
  


~VI~

Amanda!

Oh, so what, Centaura told herself. I'm not done thinking yet. I'll come out when I want, when I've . . . decided.

BAMF.

"Centaura?" Kurt glanced around her room, as decorated as the Danger Room. The bright paint that was meant to be cheerful seemed harsh, the window shades drawn against the star-dappled sky. The light hanging from the ceiling was bright white, although it, like the rest of the room, was meant to be cheerful, it gave the impression of bleakness. "It's a little - severe - in here, isn't it?"

Centaur glanced up, even after weeks with the X-Men, with the expectation of a blow. Kurt caught the distinctive grimace. "Why . . .?" of all the things he had been suspecting, this wasn't even one of them. And, unknown to Centaura, it was this that struck deep. "Are you - Did you really think that I would - that I could ever - "

Unknowing, with instincts honed by a life on the streets and too long in a place where her peers were no such thing, Centaura drew into herself. She was waiting, although even she didn't fully realize it at the time, for him to start hitting her. It was the only response she had ever gotten - and ever expected to get.

"Kurt? Centaura?" Amanda's voice echoed in the hurt silence. "Would someone let me in?"

Kurt yanked the door open, stalked out, and heard it slam shut and lock behind him. Then he sighed, facing Amanda's stunned expression and leaning heavily against the wall. What am I . . . Oh, professor. A little mental help would be so welcome . . . I haven't an eloquent word left on my tongue. I was finally - she'd become - 

"Kurt, what happened? Why'd you stomp out - why'd she slam the door behind you?" demanded the irate sorceress.

"I - I don't think - " Kurt stuttered, trying to find words. She hurt me. I - did I hurt her? "She's gone again, she's the beaten girl we picked up from the Home. I don't think - maybe she doesn't understand, but . . ."

"Doesn't understand?" Amanda considered that for a second. "Doesn't understand being accepted by people so much older than her, whom she's never considered her equals. Doesn't accept being a mutant - she used to, then it hurt her," she mulled aloud. "What happened in there, Kurt?"

"She - " Kurt gulped. His sentences were becoming very fragmented. "She acted as if I was going to hit her, 'Manda. She thought I was going to hit her. It was more . . . more like she hit me," he whispered, remembering the tiny figure curled on her bed, so strong outside, with the capability to be easily strong inside, but with the instincts of one hunted . . . who couldn't afford to trust. "I thought . . . I thought she trusted me, Amanda, I trusted her, and she betrayed me . . . Or did I do this? I can't help but wonder," Kurt's eyes pleaded with Amanda to reassure him, a stark yellow she had never thought odd to read. "If I gave her reason to expect that from me."

She was happy to oblige. "Kurt, dearheart, you would never. Could never. You've a heart of gold, Kurt Wagner, and she does trust you. Trust me."

"An' if ya don' trust yer Lady's unadorned word on it, elf - trust mine," Logan sauntered up from downstairs. "'bout you and the kid, I think. Now, shoo," he waved his friend towards Centaura's door. "In. I've been looking forwrad to our DR match, and she ain't gettin' out o' it this time!"

BAMF.

"Kurt?" came the soft, hesitant voice from the bed.

"Who else goes 'bamf'?" he replied, attempting to regain his humor.

She flung herself off her bed and at Kurt, wrapping her arms around the very surprised elf. "Oh,GodKurtI'msosorryIdidn'tmeantochaseyouoffit'sjustIdidn'tknowwhattodoandI'msoconfusedthisplaceisn'tanythingI'vedonebefore!"

Kurt blinked. That had to be the fastest he'd heard Centaura - or anyone but Jubilee on a sugar high - speak. "Cen - What's gotten into you? You can't hide up here and do that to me without at least an explanation. And talking helps. So start," he ordered, sitting gingerly next to her on the bed.

"I - well, first I'm assuming you knew I was in a gang . . ." she told him about her life before the Home, and how that as hard as it was, as cruel and as bloody, she had never, not once that she could remember, been hurt because of her mutation. Other gangs had used it as leverage until they found out it gave her an advantage in a fight - unpredictability. Then she had the 'real world' slapped in her face, after the death and separation of her gang, her family, and being shifted around till she reached the Home and all hell broke loose. And Kurt listened. Which was all she really needed, someone who could know everything about her and accept her anyway. One person whom she could trust - and with his help, and his strength, reach others.

Then he brought up something else, something serious but funny, and they both talked until they ran out of things to talk about. That was when Kurt stood, and offered his hand to Centaura. "Well, mein klein fruend - ready to come out of your shell?"

They glared at the door as it giggled.

"Well?"

"You have a session in the Danger Room ten minutes ago, kid," Wolvie informed her as the door opened. He and Amanda had (of course) heard every word.

"Am I against you?" she asked, perking up a bit.

"Yeah. C'mon," Logan started down the hallway towards the stairs that lead to the DR.

"After you, Wolverine," she said, gesturing with her tail. Hugging Kurt one last time, she whispered, "Thank you," before following Logan. He was in for a workout, if she had anything to say about it.

"Bona fortuna, Cen!" he called after her.

"I don't need it - but gratias anyway," she replied without turning. Kurt's jaw dropped. She knows Latin. Or - she knows some Latin, he shook his head. He had the feeling that this newest of X-Men - for she had never truly been a child, and did not belong with Generation X - would be surprising them for a long time. If they could help her.

We can fix this. We can and we will.

Amanda had her arms wrapped around him from behind. She took a deep breath, and spun him to face her. She wouldn't be interrupted again. "Kurt. We . . . we have been lovers too long. Belovéd I - ach," she muttered, smiling ruefully and switching to German. "Would you marry me?"


	7. Epilogue

AN: Yes, I finally finished it. It took me more months than I want to think about, but I'm done. And, although it didn't end up exactly where I wanted it to, I still think that this is very good for my first ever completed fanfic and the first thing I ever posted. So . . . Thanks to EVERYONE who ever reviewed this, you were all so nice! EXPECT A SEQUEL!! Keep spreading the word to people who don't know Kurt (fuzzyelf!), and now I'll stop talking so you can see what his reply is . . . hee!

Epilogue

Kurt was a stunned as an upside-down crocodile. If she hadn't used German, he'd have accused one of their translations of English.

_Did she just ask what I **think** she asked? _His mind went from stunned to hyperactive, and he was having an awful time organizing the chaos running rampant though his head._ What I haven't dared, for fear my loyalty to the X-Men would leave her a widow before her time? For fear that if we had children, they would end up like me – or worse, Centaura! And, mein Gott – Dare I accept?_

"_Ja_," he answered ecstatically, every thought running through his head in an instant. He hugged her, twirling around in pure joy while she laughed with the same elation. "**_Mein Gott, JA!!_**"


End file.
